


Chasing Ribbons

by Raptor_Redemption



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Multi, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 13:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20192926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raptor_Redemption/pseuds/Raptor_Redemption
Summary: When Sypha and Trevor return to the castle, Sypha only needs a glance at Adrian’s swollen eyes and matted hair before she knows they’re much too late.“We should never have left him,” she murmurs. Maybe Trevor hears her.





	Chasing Ribbons

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/raptor_redeem)!
> 
> This was originally written for one of my patrons. Please accept the fluff.

When Sypha and Trevor return to the castle, Sypha only needs a glance at Adrian’s swollen eyes and matted hair before she knows they’re much too late.

“We should never have left him,” she murmurs. Maybe Trevor hears her.

Adrian meets them at the door, fangs bared and fingers already hovering around the hilt of his sword. Sypha isn’t surprised by the fact that Adrian seems to be taking his care for the castle and the Belmont grounds more seriously than care for himself. 

She watches as his eyes soften toward a misty glow and he drops his sword entirely, abandoning the magic which had it levitating within the cup of his grip and allowing the heirloom to clatter loudly against the floor.

He opens his mouth, as if to say something, but silence erupts in the kind of way that Sypha thinks he hasn’t spoken to anyone or anything since they left two weeks ago.

“Adrian.”

Is it the first time she’s said his name—his _real _name. Sypha takes one step forward, over the threshold and toward Adrian’s arms where she thinks she belongs.

“I’m so sorry.”

She falls against his chest as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, gripping at the thin fabric of his shirt and thinking vaguely that he smells like the remnants of roses, once they’ve dried and only a memory of scent remains.

“Oh, Adrian. We’re sorry.”

Finally, Sypha feels the light touch of slender hands against her shoulders, and Adrian’s body shivers and shakes in her grasp as tears overwhelm him. He curls in on himself, hovering over Sypha and cocooning her in his desperate grasp, and she lets him.

“Come, love,” she says when her fingers tangle in the frayed and knotted ends of the hair against his back. “Come sit with us. We will not be leaving you again.”

The promise seems to comfort him enough, and Sypha allows him to lead her toward more comfortable rooms.

“A comb?” Sypha asks. She does her best to ignore the pungent remnants of saltwater and mildew that seem to have purveyed the castle entirely. Sypha watches Adrian’s throat bob when he swallows, and then he nods. In the few moments that he’s gone, Sypha stares poignantly at Trevor. “Anyone who says that heartbreak can’t kill a man has never met the two of you.”

Trevor looks like he wants to argue, but Sypha firms her lips and shuts down whatever argument he thought he could make.

Adrian returns then, and holds the comb out to Sypha. She shifts in her seat on the dusty sofa and pats the cushion in front of her. Adrian is not so far lost in his grief to misunderstand her instructions, and he sits without a word.

Lifting a soft but tangled strand of his hair between her fingers, Sypha asks, “May I?”

Adrian bows his head—quiet acceptance—and Sypha draws the ivory comb through his hair. She starts at the ends, patient, and works with her fingers to fight gently against the most stubborn knots. She speaks to him all the while, apologizing and promising and reminding him of his strength. She wants to say she loves him, and she hopes her gentleness will say it for her.

For the first time since their return, Adrian speaks. “Thank you,” he says when Sypha is halfway up his long expanse of golden hair.

She hums in response, and that’s when he leans back into her. His body relaxes, his spine loosens from its rigidness, and she watches his back rise and fall with a sigh she thinks must be contentment. 

Sypha doesn’t know how long they sit this way, and she doesn’t care. Every now and again, she peers back to Trevor to make meaningful eye contact—the kind that says, “This is right. This is how it always should have been. I love him.”

When at last Adrian’s hair is free of tangles, bursting with curl and luster as it should have been, Sypha lets her fingers work on her own. Her mind is preoccupied, buried in the feelings she has for these men who only annoyed her barely a month ago. She sees purpose in them, potential and strength and hearts of gold, and she will do whatever she can to protect the fragility which comes with their depression.

Trevor has seen so much improvement already. Sypha can’t keep her lips from curling at the thought, but her fingers still move. She pushes against Adrian’s back, allows him to lean into her, but still she twists and smooths his hair in delicate motions full of affection.

His hair ends up braided, something elegant Sypha thinks is called a “French braid,” but she’s not certain. Never (since she was a child) has she braided her own hair, and she cannot remember the last time she’s styled someone else’s. Still, her fingers have done their work, and she carefully twists Adrian toward her while keeping two fingers pressed around the end of the untied braid.

“Handsome,” she observes out loud, and baby pink barely flushes Adrian’s cheeks.

There’s no ribbon to hold it in place, but Sypha barely realizes. Instead, she tilts her head and considers the strands—three of them, twisting and turning in unity to create something elegant. She wonders if, just maybe, she and Trevor and Adrian could become the same.

Her cheeks prickle with something that grazes her face—a ribbon, she finds. Adrian has tossed the thing back at her, over his shoulder. It’s smooth enough to be made of silk, Sypha sees, but the edges are decorated with a twined velvet. Dark and elegant, but frayed at the ends with use, it rests against Adrian’s back while he waits for her to take it.

“My mother’s,” he explains, and everything makes sense.

“It’s beautiful,” Sypha says. She grasps the delicate thing in her hands and works carefully at the tips of Adrian’s hair, working the ribbon into a bow worthy of Dr. Lisa Tepes herself. Sypha has never met her, but she remembers as a girl the tales of a woman who could heal the incurable. In Adrian, she sees potential just as legendary.

Sypha turns Adrian toward her and flips his braid in front of slender shoulders. “It fits you perfectly,” she says. Then, she looks at Trevor, who only nods.

“And so do we.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to smash the kudos button and leave a comment! Thanks for reading!


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